Chapter 12
Mornings were a bit like a carousel in the Wilder/Keaton living situation.
I pivoted around Sage while she dumped her cereal bowl in the sink.
Harlow was at the counter, making Sage’s lunch. “Dishwasher,” she called without looking over her shoulder.
Sage and I danced around each other again, when, with a tiny roll of her eyes, Sage picked up her dishes and set them in the dishwasher. I snorted into my cup of coffee because I’d seen variations of that look a lot in my sisters and younger brothers. When you were just independent enough that you hated being told what to do but smart enough not to actually argue with your mother.
The zip of a bag had Harlow spinning from the counter, and I edged around her with my coffee mug lifted briefly over her head while she ducked under my arm.
“You didn’t make me a lunch?” I asked.
The look I got from the mother was stunningly similar to what I just saw from the daughter. A dry, restrained roll of the eyes.
“So that’s a no, then?” I asked.
She patted me on the chest after setting the lunch in the fridge until Sage was ready to leave. “You’re a big boy who’s been making his own lunch for a very long time, and far be it from me to end your streak of self-sufficiency. I know men do so love feeling like they can handle all their own shit.”
I held her gaze over the rim of my coffee mug.
She grinned, that dimple popping out. Something about that smile, that dimple, it unleashed a tight coil of something warm and pleasing in the base of my belly.
Sage streaked through the kitchen, severing the look between us. Probably good that she did because the fact that I registered any sort of reaction to a look between us had my brow furrowing as I took my last sip of coffee. The day before, with the almost touching her hair and the tripping on a rock and the strange visit to the woodshop, I’d worried that I’d crossed some invisible line. But when I got home after that fucking photo shoot, she was completely fine.
She was acting completely normal on the couch watching a movie, wrapped in the big white blanket, and she even invited me to sit with her.
“Romcom mood?” I asked her as I settled onto the opposite end of the couch.
She hummed, eyes locked on the screen. “Studying some story beats,” she said.
As I didn’t know what the hell that meant, I just nodded, and eventually my eyelids got heavier and heavier.
“Need a nap, old man?”
I grunted. “No. I’m awake.”
She nudged me with her foot, and when I tried to snatch it, she laughed and backed farther into the corner. “Movie not doing it for you?”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I laid my head back on the edge of the couch and stretched my legs out onto the upholstered coffee table I’d added last week. “Movie’s fine. Two hot people dancing around each other when everyone knows they’re in love, and they’re the last to admit it. They always end the same.”
Harlow’s gaze was heavy on the side of my face, pressing like a gentle nudge, and I kept my eyes shut. She spoke quietly, and if I had been sleeping, I may not have heard it. “Like dude movies aren’t predictable either,” she whispered. “Oh what a shock, the good guy kills the bad guy in the end.”
A reluctant grin curved my lips. She was right. My eye cracked open. “You want me to wake up and watch, Harlow?”
She sniffed. “No. Take your nap.”
So I did. She left to get Sage from her sister’s, and the rest of the night was football on the couch.
Whatever had happened at the shop was a fluke. An aberration. The ebb and flow of our morning was completely normal. Sage snagged the lunch out of the fridge, then bounced on her toes. “Mom, can you bring me to school early?”
“Why don’t you want to ride the bus?”
Sage shoved the lunch bag into her already stuffed backpack. “So I saw a flyer yesterday. They’re doing a winter indoor flag football league, and I really want to see if the coach will let me play on this one.”
Harlow crossed her arms, the edge of her hip leaning against the counter. “Do you want me to email him or call the school or something?”
Sage shook her head. “I can ask. It’ll be more persuasive coming from me.”
Harlow and I traded a look. We both knew it wouldn’t, but I had to give the kid credit for wanting to take ownership of it.
“How’d the fall team do?” Harlow asked. “The one you were too late to join?”
“I wasn’t that late,” Sage pointed out. “I only missed one game.”
“Fine.” Harlow sighed. “How did the team do that wouldn’t let you join because you missed one game?”
“Terrible. I think they only won one game.”
“Nowhere to go but up, then? That’s … good.”
Sage didn’t look so convinced. “Or they could lose all their games, so they could actually do worse.”
Harlow patted her on the head. “That’s my little pessimist.”
“Wonder where she got that from,” I muttered. With the simple narrowing of her eyes, Harlow had me clearing my throat. “Actually, I can drop you off, Sage.”
“Sweet!” She tore up the stairs. “Just gotta get my sweatshirt. I’ll be ready in a second.”
Harlow watched me tug my work boots on. “You don’t have to do that if it’s out of your way.”
“It’s not out of my way.” I glanced up briefly while I tied the laces tight. “I drive right past the school heading to this house.”
She nodded. “Well, I appreciate it.” Her eyes darted upstairs as the sound of Sage stomping around the room had me chuckling. “I actually have a, uh, story idea. Kinda want to play with something this morning.”
It was amazing the pride you could feel in someone else’s work when it had nothing to do with you. If I gushed the way I wanted to gush, she’d feel uncomfortable, but fuck did I want to.
“So whatever you did yesterday was working, huh?”
Color bloomed high on her cheeks, and she nodded a little. “Mm-hmm.”
“Why are you blushing?”
“I’m not blushing,” she said hotly. Then she pressed her hands to her cheeks, hiding the nonexistent blush from my view. “Do you have to always point out everything you notice?”
I grinned. “No.”
For instance, I wasn’t pointing out that her sleep shorts had a hole in the hem just under the curve of her ass, and I wasn’t pointing out that her hair was kinked out to the side because of however she slept.
“Ready,” Sage yelled, pounding down the steps.
She gave her mom a quick hug and darted out the door. I pointed at my own hair. “I like the look this morning.”
Harlow’s hand flew up to her head, patting around until she found the pieces sticking out. Mid-eye roll, she flipped me her middle finger. I was still smiling when I hopped up into the truck. Sage was already belting herself into the passenger seat.
“You figure out what you’re going to say to the coach?” I asked.
“Yes.”
Immediately, she pulled out a piece of paper with bullet points written out in Sharpie. Reasons I Should Join The Team, it was titled. My eyebrows shot up my forehead. While I drove, I glanced down at her copiously written notes.
“Looks pretty persuasive.”
“Flag football is the fastest-growing youth sport in America,” she said on a rushed exhale. “And most of that is coming from girls. There’s been a forty percent increase in female players in the last year alone. High schools across the country have it as a varsity sport now because over half a million girls are playing in leagues.” She sighed. “They don’t need me on their team forever, but I bet there are enough girls here and in neighboring towns that they could start a girls’ team if we got a chance. That’s all I’m asking for.”
I cut her a quick look. “You convinced me. Is the coach a nice guy?”
“I don’t know,” she said, folding her paper with precision, then tucking it back into the front pocket of her backpack. “I’ve seen him around school, but I’ve never talked to him. Mom only emailed him once when we first moved here.”
The drive to the school didn’t take long, and because of the early hour, not many kids were trickling in. When the lights from the parking lot cut through the windshield, highlighting her face, I could tell she was nervous.
“Holy shit, it looks the same,” I said.
The distraction was enough because she studied the building, then cut her eyes toward me. “Did you like going here?”
I shrugged. “As much as any kid likes going to school at this age. Your mom always had better grades than I did. I remember that much.”
“She did?”
“Oh yeah. She’s still smarter than me. The only thing I was good at was being intimidating. Probably still is.” Sage laughed, which made me realize just how not-intimidating I was to the Keaton women. That had me grimacing as I pulled into a spot and checked the time. “You sure he’s here?”
She nodded. “I checked his office hours last night.”
I tapped my thumb on the steering wheel, watching her out of the corner of my eye. Her fingers were twisted in a tight knot, and she’d lost a little bit of color in her face.
Pep talks had never been my forte. Giving them or receiving them. If it was someone in my family, they wouldn’t expect me to have a filter, so there’d be no second-guessing of my word choice. If it were Harlow, I could be as blunt as I wanted with no recourse. If she didn’t like what I said, she’d tell me to fuck off.
But I tried to remember what it was like at ten years old. What my life was like. Sage had experienced a different kind of uprooting in her life than I had. Around her age, my dad had just married Sheila, and even if the expansion of our family had been a good thing, it was scary as shit at the time.
The adults in my life, my dad and new stepmom, had come alongside all of us to tell us that it would be okay. That we could be scared or nervous or pissed off or excited, and all of those feelings were normal. They were there, even if it was standing off to the side while we faced the thing that made us nervous.
And as the thought registered, I heard myself ask Sage, “Want me to come in with you?”
Her head whipped over, eyes wide, mouth slightly open. “Really?” she whispered.
“Sure. I can just … stand there in the hallway, if it’ll make you feel better.”
Sage nodded frantically. “Yes, it would. I kinda feel like I’m going to puke.”
“Then I definitely vote for this option.” I tilted my head toward the building. “Come on, let’s do it, kid.”
The hallways were pretty quiet, and only one teacher stopped us to ask who I was, but as soon as I said my last name, she smiled, giving me a lingering look before sending us on our way.
Sage snorted.
“What?” I asked.
“She was totally checking you out. She’s not married,” Sage added helpfully.
“You trying to set me up?”
“No way. If you got married, we’d have to move out.”
At the decisive answer, my lips edged up in a smile. “No need to worry about that, kid. Marriage is about the furthest thing from my mind. I’d never find someone who could put up with me anyway.”
“My mom does,” she said slyly.
“Your mom is my friend,” I told her. “There’s a difference.”
“True.” She paused, pointing out one of the doors across the hall. It was cracked open, soft music playing from inside. “That’s it.”
“Got your notes?” I asked.
She nodded, then sucked in a huge breath. After pulling them from her backpack, she shoved the thing at me, which I caught before it hit the ground. The purple sparkly straps really went well with my work boots, and I hooked it up over my shoulder.
“Speak clearly,” I told her. “You’ve done all your research; you know what you’re talking about.”
Again, Sage nodded, but the motion was a little jerkier this time. I held out my fist. She tapped it lightly with hers.
“I can do this,” she whispered.
“Go kick some ass.”
Her grin was quick, then she edged her chin up and marched toward his door. Firmly, she knocked, and a deep voice said to come in.
So that I could hear, I walked closer and leaned a shoulder against the wall. A custodian walked down the hallway, eyeing the backpack on my shoulder.
I managed a smile. “I’m with … she’s in there.”
He nodded, then kept on his way.
“Mr. Collins? I’m Sage Keaton. I was too late to sign up for the U10 flag football team in the fall.”
“Sure, I remember. What can I do for you?” The sound of shuffling papers punctuated his pause. There was a beat of silence, and I tapped my thumb on my thigh. “Sage?” he prompted.
She sucked in a deep breath. “Ithinkyoushouldletgirlsplayontheindoorteam.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed because the only reason I understood her was because I knew what she wanted to ask.
The coach cleared his throat. “I, uh, didn’t catch that. You think what?”
“Th-this winter,” she stammered. “I think, umm, I think you should have girls, you know, I think … well, there’s a f-forty percent increase last year to this year, and umm…” Crinkling paper had me imagining the way she must have had a death grip on that note from her backpack. “Shoot, I smudged that line,” she muttered. Her voice went up an octave. “B-but I think it, umm, said how many high schools are adding it as a varsity sport.”
“Sage,” he interrupted quietly, “I can tell you’re really passionate about this. But I think maybe this is a conversation for a different time. Maybe when you’re a bit more prepared, or I could talk to your parents about it.”
“Okay,” she said, totally dejected.
I was rusty. Hadn’t punched anyone in years. All I could do was pray that it was like riding a bike because I was about to get in a fight with an elementary school coach. I was about fifty percent sure my brother would bail me out if I got arrested, but ninety percent sure Harlow would.
I strode forward, filling the doorway.
Sage’s face melted with relief, and she edged over to stand in front of me.
The guy sat up in his chair, face instantly suspicious. “Can I help you?”
I jerked my chin toward Sage. “Here with her,” I bit out. “I’m not sure she was done talking yet.”
He stood, and holy shit, did we measure each other up in similar ways. I was taller by a few inches and had a slight edge in weight too. But he looked strong and had to be within a couple of years of my age.
“I kinda was done talking,” Sage whispered. “I was so nervous, I messed up my notes and couldn’t even read them.”
I gave her an encouraging smile. “You did great, kid. It’s okay to be nervous.”
She smiled.
“This your dad, Sage?” the coach asked.
“I don’t have a dad,” she said. The coach’s face bent in a grimace, clearly unsure of what to say. But Sage spoke again. “He’s my mom’s best friend.” Then she snuck a look at me. “And my friend too.”
Well, shit. If this kid made me cry in front of the asshole coach, I’d never forgive her.
The guy nodded, then sized me up again. He must have seen something on my face that knew we’d need a little privacy. Probably because I looked like I wanted to rip his ball sack off.
“Why don’t you go wait in your classroom, Miss Keaton?”
But instead of listening, she looked to me for direction. If that wasn’t the most terrifying sort of responsibility, I didn’t know what was. “You can stay with me. In here, in the hallway, or you can go to your class, whatever you want,” I told her.
The coach sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck.
Sage glanced back and forth between us, then gave me a tiny smile. “I’ll go to my classroom. Thanks, Ian.”
I handed her the backpack from my shoulder, and she scooted past. The coach took a step forward, only hesitating briefly before he held his hand out. “Scott Collins,” he said.
Did I grip his hand as tightly as humanly possible? I sure fucking did. He conceded the handshake with a slight grimace, and I fought the urge to smirk.
“Ian Wilder,” I replied.
Recognition lit his eyes. “Wilder Homes,” he said.
“That’s the one.”
“Sorry to hear about your dad. He was a great guy.”
“Thank you.”
Coach Scott Collins with the wimpy handshake gestured to a chair. “Have a seat.”
Yeah right. He’d be towering over me the way he was leaning against the desk.
“I’m good,” I told him. “And I’m not trying to overstep, but like she said, Sage and her mom are my friends. I want her to have a chance at something she’s good at.”
“The rules are the rules. I can’t just switch the school team to co-ed because she wants to play.”
“Aren’t you the athletic director?”
“Yes.”
“So can’t you just say she’s allowed to play with them?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I can’t just change school rules whenever I want.”
“Yeah, but the winter league isn’t through the school, is it? It’s extra. Practice. And from what Sage told me, the team she’d play on could use a little practice.”
He exhaled slowly. “They’re … learning.”
“So why not let her learn with them? She’s not going to get tackled, and if the coach is the one who sets the standard of how the kids treat each other,” I paused meaningfully, letting that hang in the air, “then I’m sure all those boys will treat her with respect.”
His jaw clenched. “That’s not what I’m worried about. They’re all good kids.”
“Give her a fucking chance, man,” I said. “She’s a great kid with a hell of an arm. And if she plays, maybe there’s enough girls that they can have their own team.”
Coach Collins studied me for a long moment. “Your brother Parker is a local hero.”
At the abrupt subject change, I blinked. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“He’s great. Love watching him play in Portland. All the kids around here do. Makes them think they can have a shot at the pros because he did it. It’s the best motivation there is, don’t you think?”
Something in his tone had me narrowing my eyes. “What do you want?”
“You have your brother and a couple of Portland players come do a practice with the kids, I’ll let her on the winter team. No promises about a girls’ league, because that’s a much bigger undertaking, but I’ll give her a spot.”
The laugh I exhaled was short and shocked. “You’re extorting me so she can have a spot on the team?”
His stare was unwavering. “No. I’m asking a favor. You want me to do a favor for Sage, right? Make an exception for her that we’ve never made before.”
“Fucking hell,” I muttered. “My brother’s in the middle of a season. I can’t just force him to drag half the team here for a kids’ flag football practice.”
“I didn’t say half the team. I said a couple of the players.” He spread his arms out. “They’d help these kids, and you can’t tell me it won’t.”
Damn if I wasn’t about to grind my molars to dust staring at this guy. “Maybe you could give her a spot on the team because it’s the right thing to do, and you fucking know it.”
Even with my cursing, he didn’t flinch.
Maybe the handshake wasn’t worth it. I scrubbed a hand over my mouth. “I need a promise from you.”
He held a hand out again. “She gets a guaranteed spot on the team.”
“She starts on that team,” I told him. “I’m not making any calls just to have you sit her on the bench so you can make her some showpiece of your own virtue.”
The coach whistled low. “Most parents who come in here have a bit more of a verbal filter than you do, Mr. Wilder. We play nice, at least for a while.”
“Yeah, well, maybe that’s why I’m not a parent. I don’t have time for bullshit, and I don’t like seeing an adult brush aside a little kid who’s got a big idea.” From my slightly taller height, I stared him down. “I’ll call my brother, but until I hear from Sage’s mom that she’s going to start, I’m not promising you anything.”
He was cornered, and he knew it. Finally, he nodded. “Fine. I’m not promising anything beyond this winter season, though.”
“Believe me, I’m aware.”
“First practice is next week, by the way,” he said. “I’d love to start this season off with all that motivation.”
I snorted. “I bet.” Grudgingly, I shook his hand, only slightly reducing the strength of my grip this time.
When I got back to my truck, I sank back in the seat and sighed heavily.
“One of these days, your temper is going to get you into trouble,” I muttered. Then I pulled my phone up and hit the entry for Parker’s number.
He answered on the second ring.
“Holy shit, it’s the brother who never calls anyone,” he said.
“Funny,” I answered. “You at work yet?”
“Soon. Heading in to do weights before practice.”
“Nice touchdown on Sunday,” I told him. “Took you long enough to break away from that corner.”
“Yeah well, it’s a little harder when they double-team me.”
“Excuses.”
Parker laughed, and I closed my eyes at the sound of it. Besides Poppy, he was the sibling most changed when I’d been gone to London. He’d gone from a scrawny college athlete with long legs and a fire in his belly to an absolute beast on the field. It was still hard for me to reconcile my memories of him with the man he was now.
Like me, Parker was married to his job. Nothing else mattered, and whenever shit got hard—like when Dad was sick—that was the place he found comfort, where he could hone his obsession into something productive. It was why he didn’t come home for months toward the end with Dad. That powerlessness had him in a chokehold, and I couldn’t even really hold it against him.
“How, uh, how are you?” I asked Parker. “You know, with Dad and everything.”
The silence between us grew large and telling. I’d never been the brother everyone went to with their feelings. Not ever. It wasn’t because I didn’t love my siblings, even when I sniped at them—especially my brothers—I always loved them.
Parker made a small, disbelieving sound. “You know that Mom and Adaline try for Feelings Calls at least once a week, right?”
“I did not.”
He huffed out a small laugh. “I promise you, adding one more person who wants to pry my head open is not going to help.” Parker paused. “No offense, Ian, but I know this isn’t why you called.”
Okay, no bullshit then. I could appreciate that.
I blew out a slow breath. “I need a favor. It’s not a small one.”
“Wait, let me savor this moment.” He paused, inhaling with a satisfied hum. “Can I pretend to say no so that you start begging?”
“Fuck. Off.”
Parker’s booming laugh had me smiling, and it helped ease a little bit of the tension I’d been holding in my chest.
“What do you need, big brother?”
I grimaced, staring at the brick facade of the school, trying to figure out how I was going to explain all of this to Harlow. “I need you to bring a couple of teammates home next week.”
“Next week? It better be important. We have a divisional matchup on Sunday.”
I thought about Sage’s face, all the different versions of it I’d seen so far today. But most importantly, the relief stamped across it when I walked into the guy’s office. It was hard for me to ask for help. Always had been. But somehow, asking for help for someone else came up a little easier.
“Yeah, Parker. It is important.”